


Chaos and Bloodshed Already Haunt Us

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Series: Whumptober 2020 [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Gen, Good Older Sibling Jason Todd, Guilt, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Jason Todd, Stabbing, Torture, Whumptober 2020, because he'll be damned if he lets tim get hurt on his watch, he gets tortured instead of tim, he's a good brother okay!!! i love him!!!!, roman sionis is a bastard we know this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26867365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: Tim and Jason get kidnapped by Black Mask. Jason is too sacrificial for his own good.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Whumptober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948297
Comments: 15
Kudos: 442





	Chaos and Bloodshed Already Haunt Us

**Author's Note:**

> Whump Day 6: "Stop, please"
> 
> (I rate this one a 7/10 on the Good Writing scale, which is how I'm gonna warn readers about "meh" fics from now on when it's not my best work because I don't want you all to think this is how I always write okay I'm usually better I promise.)
> 
> Title is from "Farmer Refuted" from Hamilton!

Tim has been waking up tied to chairs in strange places since he was thirteen, to the point where he has been kidnapped more times than he’s been to Chuck E. Cheese. When you’re a Wayne kid _and_ a batkid, you learn to accept regular kidnappings as a part of life, just like taxes.  
  
Is it so unreasonable that Tim would prefer to wake up in his own bed, for a change?  
  
First things first: take stock. Assess the situation. Go from there. Before he’s even opened his eyes, Tim feels for what he’s pretty sure is regular rope keeping his hands tied behind him. Unfortunately, even rope can hold a bat when said bat has no weapons to bail them out, which Tim doesn’t. His utility belt and bandoliers are missing, and any spare tools he has hidden on his person are impossible to reach with the way his arms are wrenched behind him. His fingertips are already tingly, going on numb.  
  
“Red? You up?”  
  
Tim opens his eyes at the familiar voice. Jason is tied to his own chair across from him, a mirror of Tim’s own situation. The room itself is small—gray walls, cement floor, unmarked crates stacked along the walls. Jason’s helmet is off, exposing the domino he wears underneath. Tim’s mask hasn’t been touched either.  
  
“Do you remember what happened or do you need the recap?” Jason asks.  
  
It’s blurry at best, but Tim remembers enough. “Intel mission on Black Mask, right?”  
  
“Started out that way. We got here and I figured out that Sionis was selling weapons to Intergang so we blew the whole shipment to hell.”  
  
 _“You_ figured it out?” That doesn’t sound right, as fragmented as Tim’s memories are. From the throbbing in the back of his head, he must have been hit pretty hard.   
  
“You calling me a liar?”  
  
“I ain’t calling you a truther,” Tim mutters, fiddling with the rope that’s been cutting off circulation in his hands for what must have been at least an hour. He can’t get Jason and himself out of here in this condition. “Did you—"  
  
“Already signaled him.” Good. Bruce will send someone to bail them out of this in no time. They just have to hold out until then.  
  
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a chilling voice speaks from behind Tim. “You have no _idea_ how bored I was waiting for the party to start.” Fingers touch Tim’s shoulder and he jerks away.  
  
Jason, unbothered by the newcomer, snorts. “This is what you consider a party? You need some fucking friends.”  
  
Sionis ignores the jab. He passes Tim and goes straight for the camera set up near the left wall, just far back enough to fit both Tim and Jason in frame. Very, _very_ bad sign. He turns it on, the red light blinking.  
  
“You making a movie?” Jason says. He’s snarky, but Tim can see the fear lurking behind his eyes.  
  
Roman ignores him and adjusts the camera so it points at himself. “Hello, Batman.” Tim’s eyes snap up to meet Jason’s. “In case you were wondering, this is a live feed you’re getting now. And don’t try tracing it, you’ll just waste your energy. You’re not the only one who has talented technicians on his side.”  
  
He leans in closer to the camera, his mask nearly touching the lens. “In the spirit of clarity, let me be clear: this, right now? This is a gift. This is my warning to you to stay the _hell_ out of my business, otherwise you and your precious lackeys will have to answer to me.” He moves out of the frame and zooms in on Tim’s masked face, then Jason’s. “Lucky for me, I found a couple of your birds messing with my shipment, and they so _graciously_ volunteered to help me set an example.”   
  
He steps aside and gestures to a tray of tools, each one more horrible than the last. Most of them are still coated in blood from his last victim. Tim gulps.  
  
Sionis peruses his collection, which gives Tim the chance to catch Jason’s attention. He jerks his head toward the camera, mouthing, _Tell them where we are._ Jason nods, and Tim looks back at Sionis. “You think I haven’t been tortured before? This is just a workout.” Is it true? No. He’s terrified, actually. But Jason needs time to signal Bruce through the camera, so Tim will stall for as long as he can.  
  
“Bold words, kid.” Sionis picks up a knife, tracing the edge of it with his fingertip. “Just makes it more fun for me when you break.” He comes closer and grabs Tim roughly by the chin, pressing the knife against his cheek uncomfortably close to his eye. “I’ll bet I can make you cry.”  
  
“Hey, Blackie,” Jason calls, ripping their focus away. His eyes are narrowed, mouth twisted. “Did you hear the one about the rich dude who wore blackface?”  
  
Sionis tightens his grip on Tim’s face. “Do tell.”  
  
 _Stop talking,_ Tim tries to convey telepathically. _Don’t make this worse._  
  
“It was universally agreed that he was a piece of shit.”  
  
“You should learn to keep your mouth shut when someone’s holding a knife to your baby brother’s face.” To prove his point, Roman digs the knife in, slicing a thin line down all the way to Tim’s jaw. Tim inhales sharply at the sting.  
  
“Baby brother?” Jason repeats. “You really are an idiot.” He doesn’t look at Tim, keeping his glare solely on Roman. “I barely know the guy. He follows me around, thinking I walk on water or some shit, but trust me. He’s a pain in the ass. You’re doing me a favor, really.”  
  
Sionis pulls the knife away from Tim’s face. Tim releases a breath. Sionis approaches Jason now, his knife still raised with Tim’s blood staining the steel blade. “Someone’s mouthy today.”  
  
“If you think this is mouthy, you should have heard your mother last night.”  
  
Sionis plunges the knife into Jason’s knee. Jason locks a scream behind his teeth, his face contorting in pain. “Try walking on water now,” Sionis hisses. He yanks the knife out, blood splattering on Jason’s legs and the floor.  
  
Tim looks nervously at the camera, its red light blinding ominously. Is Bruce watching this from the other side, agonizing over having a front-row seat to this display? Or is he already gone, on his way to rescue them? Tim hopes it’s the latter.  
  
“You think—think I haven’t been stabbed before?” Jason pants, his teeth gritted through the pain. “That was child’s play.”  
  
“Is that right?” Sionis looks over his shoulder at Tim. “Then maybe we should get a second opinion. What do you say, kiddo? Want to match your brother over here?”  
  
“Thank _god,”_ Jason says. “Go over there and stay, if you wouldn’t mind. Your breath smells like dog shit. But I guess you are what you eat, so.”  
  
Roman punches Jason in the face so hard Tim can hear his teeth clank from here. He does it again two, three times, until blood streams from Jason’s nostrils and spills over his lips. Tim pulls frantically on the ropes binding him, tries to do _anything,_ but he’s held tight.  
  
“Now, _that,”_ Jason says, spitting out a mouthful of blood and what looks like a tooth, “was better. Still amateurish, but at least you’re not a fuckin’ sissy about it.”  
  
“Hood,” Tim snaps. “Please, _shut up.” Why are you doing this?_  
  
“Why should I listen to you? You’re the one who got us into this mess in the first place, _replacement._ This is _your_ fault.” Jason’s words are snarls and his eyes burn with a tangible hatred, all directed at Tim. But Tim knows him too well. Not everyone wears a literal mask like Sionis does.  
  
Roman reaches for his tray and picks up a new blade, this one with large, jagged teeth. “By all means, keep talking, Hood. See where that gets you.”  
  
“What, are you going to stab me? Go ahead. The little shit _deserves_ to feel guilty.”  
  
Sionis poises the blade at Jason’s shoulder, digging the tip in until Jason hisses. He leans in close, grabs Jason’s jaw with his other hand. “I know you’re not stupid. You think that if you act like a big enough asshole, you can save the runt from me.” He pushes on the knife, slowly sinking it into Jason’s flesh, ridge by ridge. “I’m _very_ okay with that.”  
  
Roman twists the knife and Jason _screams._ Tim closes his eyes but he can’t cover his ears; he can’t tune out his brother screaming in agony, and he almost wishes that he were in Bruce’s position, watching this through a video feed. At least then he could turn it off.   
  
“Stop, _please,”_ Tim begs. “He didn’t do anything, it was all me. It was my idea to blow up your shipment. I ruined your business, not him. Just—hurt _me,_ take it out on _me._ Not him.”  
  
Sionis releases the blade, leaving it sticking out of Jason’s shoulder. “Told you I could make the little bird cry.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Tim has never felt so powerless in his life. It feels like it goes on for hours, the blood and the screaming and the sickening sound of torn flesh. It only gets worse when he escalates to the snapping of fingers, the crackle of knife through bone. He hits Jason so many times there’s more purple riddling his face than clean, unmarked skin.   
  
And every time Sionis so much as  _ looks  _ at Tim, Jason does something new to pull his attention back like a wasp on a string. He provokes the sadistic bastard with vulgar comments, snotty complaints that belong more in Damian’s mouth than Jason’s.    
  
And Tim can’t do anything but watch.   
  
He doesn’t know how long it’s been when something crashes behind him, which he assumes is the door. Roman barely has time to drop the blowtorch he’s holding before a batarang strikes him in the center of his mask, knocking him out cold. Jason doesn’t react. He hasn’t lifted his head in so long it puts Tim on the edge of panic, just quiet groans and grunts through every new injury inflicted on him.   
  
“Tim!” Dick is at Tim’s side in an instant, already working on the ropes binding him. “Are you okay?” Bruce is tending to Jason, putting a field dressing on one of his many open wounds while he talks to Alfred through his earpiece. He’s telling him to call Dr. Thompkins and tell her it’s an emergency.   
  
As soon as his hands are free Tim is lunging up from the chair, only for Dick to grab him by the shoulders and force him back down. “Hey, hey, slow down. Where are you hurt?” Dick lightly prods around the cut on Tim’s face, which is undoubtedly going to need stitches, but Tim couldn’t care less. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Jason, who lets out a groan when Bruce accidentally jostles his broken arm.   
  
Tim shakes his head, swallowing thickly. “He didn’t—he didn’t do anything to me. He didn’t touch me at all. Only Jason.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> I had Julie pick A or B, A being a happy ending and B being a sad ending and she picked B :)
> 
> [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


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